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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411256">Enter at Last, Master.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niceto_Thetya/pseuds/Niceto_Thetya'>Niceto_Thetya</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, But it's the Master so, F/F, Femslash February, Hair-pulling, Jodie Whittaker is The Master (Doctor Who), Light BDSM, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Vague paranormal stuff, Well not really, kind of?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:14:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niceto_Thetya/pseuds/Niceto_Thetya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An extended oneshot from my Femslash February series, following the prompt 'Paranormal AU'. </p><p>There's someone living in Yasmin Khan's mirror. The Master tells her she was trapped in the glass by a man who calls himself good, and she needs help to escape. Of course, nobody believes Yasmin, but she's seen her Master in action, and it's up to her to get her new friend free. </p><p>If you want to read the clean version of this check out Chapter 13 of my Femslash February series 'So Many Stars Tonight'.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/The Master, Yasmin Khan/W!Master, kind of - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Enter At Last, Master.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is a pretty long one. Can you tell I adored this prompt? I love anything paranormal- I didn't want to make what's going on with the Master to be too set in stone (no pun intended) so it's more just vague sinister magic, but I hope that doesn't take anyone too out of it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Day Thirteen</strong><br/>
Theme: Paranormal AU<br/>
Ship: W!Master/Yasmin Kahn</p><p>There was someone behind her in the mirror.</p><p>A few months ago, it might have scared her, but Yasmin Kahn knew better, by now.</p><p>The first time it’d happened she’d practically torn her room apart, looking for someone hiding, or some trick to project the effect. She’d been home alone, and there was no way that anyone could actually be there, but she’d read too many stories about awful break-ins during her training to trust her own gut.</p><p>The mirror was new- or new to her, at least. She’d picked it up from a second-hand shop after Sonya had slammed her door open too hard and shattered the last one. Luckily she liked this one a lot better so she hadn’t been too annoyed. It had an antique look to it which seemed a little out of place in her room, with that tarnished silver frame, finished with an ornate set of angel wings at the top. Not the kind of thing she’d normally have gone for, but she’d been strangely drawn to it.</p><p>After a few days, she’d realised that the figure was always there, just standing and staring at her when she was home alone. It really should have been more unsettling than it was.</p><p>Maybe it helped somehow that the woman- because even in those early days when she hid her face in shadows, she was clearly a woman- was beautiful. It took a long time for her to actually show her face, but even before she did there was something utterly captivating about her.</p><p>By the time a week had rolled around, Yasmin was becoming obsessed. She’d tried mentioning it to friends, but of course they looked at her like she was crazy. After that she began to keep it to herself. She’d done research, found forums of people reporting similar phenomena, but they never actually matched up like she wanted them to. They were shadows that passed quickly and never came back, or stories made up to frighten teenagers. Her apparition was very real, and Yasmin was convinced she was getting closer as time went on.</p><p>When research failed, Yasmin settled for buying a notebook (blood red, like the spectre’s lipstick), and sitting down in front of the mirror when she was home alone, writing notes about what she saw. The woman didn’t move much, at first, but she could see other things that weren’t right. The little fairy shelf-sitter she’d had since she was a little girl looked wrong- its wings were feathered where they’d never been before, and it’d turned an ashy grey colour. If she stared at its reflection long enough, she could have sworn it was crying. Then there was the clock- an ornate grandfather clock standing right at the edge of the reflection no matter what angle she watched from.</p><p>The colours were off too- the longer she stared at the image the more things seemed to shift. The cool blue of her walls looked red, as did the purples of her bedsheets. Everything shifted, reflected back at her bathed in the scarlet glow the figure seemed to give off. In time even her clothes would appear to her in a darker hue as the woman in the mirror infected everything she touched.</p><p>When she’d been watching it long enough, she swore she began to hear it chime on the hour.</p><p>Slowly, far more slowly than she’d have liked, the woman in the mirror began to reveal herself more and more. She exuded danger, but that only served to set Yasmin’s heart racing in a way she’d always hoped police work would, and each new revelation was met with an increased frenzy of scribbling in her book. She’d shifted position at one point, revealing a glimpse pale skin scattered with dark, circular patterns, creeping under her sleeves. Yasmin had done her best to copy the symbols out, as though they held the secret to the universe itself hidden within them.</p><p>“You can come out.” She’d eventually tried, glancing towards the door nervously despite herself. Her voice sounded too loud after hours spent in silence, and even though her family were out of the flat she was still nervous about the ridicule she might receive for talking to her own reflection. “I won’t tell.”</p><p>Seeming to sense Yasmin’s hesitation, the figure had slunk back into the shadows, out of sight. It’d taken Yasmin days to tempt her back out again.</p><p>After that initial time speaking to the woman in the mirror, she gradually became a little more careful with it. It started off small- greeting the spectre when she got home, asking her opinion on which jacket she should wear (not that that ever got much of a response, but she was hoping that if she could show she was comfortable with her she might show herself again), and eventually sitting on a cushion in front of the mirror and just asking questions about her. What was her name? What was she doing there? What did she want?</p><p>After two weeks of trying, she finally got a response.</p><p>“Can you actually talk?” Yasmin asked, leaning a little closer to the mirror, and trying to pick out any features in the shadow.</p><p>“If I want to.” The voice seemed to echo more from inside of Yasmin than from the mirror, beginning behind her eyes and reverberating through her very being in a way that set her teeth on edge. It wasn’t an unpleasant voice, with an accent that almost seemed to mirror her own, but there was certainly a sinister edge to it.</p><p>“So why don’t you?” She asked, her voice suddenly betraying significantly more nerves than it had before. She shuffled slightly in her seat, before crossing one ankle behind the other to stop herself from moving.</p><p>“Why should I?”</p><p>“Do you at least have a name?” She didn’t much want to keep calling her visitor the woman in the mirror. A too-harsh laugh reverberated through her skull.</p><p>“Call me Master.”</p><p>Yasmin blinked, surprised. “W-What?” She stammered slightly over the question, genuinely caught off guard by the entire situation.</p><p>“Call me Master.” The spectre repeated. The voice was a little firmer now. It was an order, not a request.</p><p>“Master.”</p><p>Yasmin looked surprised at her own voice in the silence, the word drawn from her lips before she had even really given it permission to leave her. It proved worth it a moment later, when the shadowy figure took a step forwards, her features cast into sharp relief for the first time.</p><p>She was even more captivating than how Yasmin had built her up in her mind, with short blonde curls and eyes a that could drive a girl mad. The sleeves of her red button-up were rolled up, exposing those circular patterns inked across her left forearm. There was a singular one surrounded by flowers on her right hand. They matched the ones that snaked around her left calf, visible between the hem of her cropped black trousers and her boots. A final black design seemed to poke out of her collar below her jawbone, but it was too covered to see properly. An amused smirk began to play across her scarlet-painted lips as she looked at Yasmin, before she finally spoke again.</p><p>“Good girl.”</p><p>Yasmin tried her best to ignore the way that those little words made heat pool in the pit of her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>The Master didn’t bother hiding from her any more after that. It seemed as though Yasmin had passed some test by agreeing to call her by her name because now almost every time she looked into her mirror, she was there. What was better, she’d actually speak to her now, at least on the days she was in a good mood. It took her a while to get used to that odd reverberating sensation, but she’d actually come to relish it. It felt entirely too intimate, like someone poking at the very root of everything she was, but it also meant that her Master was pleased with her.</p><p>“Why are you hiding from me, Yasmin?”</p><p>The question came a week or so after they’d first spoken, just as Yasmin was sat taking off her makeup after work. That odd, invasive feeling of someone prodding her brain startled her so much she was lucky she didn’t wind up poking her eye out with the cotton bud she’d been using.</p><p>“Master?” She asked, the word seeming far too heavy as it fell from her tongue. It was just the woman’s name, at least given how she’d used it, but there certainly seemed to be an intimacy which came along with a name like that.</p><p>“This is your room, isn’t it? I see you when you go to sleep.” She made a gesture towards the bed- not the reflected one behind her, with it’s scarlet sheets, but the one Yasmin actually slept in. “But you go change in the bathroom? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in your own bedroom, Lovely.”</p><p>Yasmin visibly brightened at being called that.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t-“ Yasmin wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She’d certainly stopped changing in front of the mirror when she realised that she wasn’t alone there, but she certainly hadn’t expected to be called out on it.</p><p>“Are you shy?” The blonde smirked just a little, her fingers combing through the reflected Yasmin’s hair. Outside of the mirror, the real Yasmin just felt the ghost of fingernails raking over her scalp, and a traitorous little breath escaped her. “You don’t have to be shy around me. And anyway, you’ve got nothing to be shy about you’re <em>pretty</em>.”</p><p>Her face felt hot as she watched the Master cross behind her reflection, her eyes fixed on her through the glass. “You really think so?” She asked, cursing herself for how much she sounded like some silly little schoolgirl.</p><p>“I know so.” She smirked a little. “And, If it makes you feel a little better…” She unfastened a couple of buttons on her vest, teasingly slow. “We’re all girls together here, after all.”</p><p>She took the vest off, tossing it onto the bed, her red blouse falling open a little more at the top, and showing off the tattoo at her throat- another single circle, like on her hand, but encircled by thorns not flowers this time. She gave Yasmin a wicked smile, making another vague gesture at her. When that didn’t get the point across quickly enough, she tugged at the reflected version’s jacket, sending a slight shiver over her skin there, but doing nothing to actually dislodge the garment.</p><p>“Master-“ Yasmin’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the woman in the mirror move. She glanced towards her bedroom door, despite already knowing it was locked- not to mention that she was home alone. There was nobody to overhear her.</p><p>“Do you want me to stop?” She asked, a slight edge to her voice, and it was plain she already knew the answer. Yasmin stared at her for a moment, before shrugging the jacket off, laying it on the bed, just where the Master’s sat in her mirror world.</p><p>“Good girl.”</p><p>Yasmin felt her stomach twist into a knot at that, shifting her position slightly so she could press her thighs together with some subtilty. Judging by the faint chuckle reverberating through her skull, the Master noticed.</p><p> By the time Yasmin looked up, she was already unbuttoning her blouse, shrugging it off without batting an eye- she didn’t seem to have any of her human counterpart’s reservations. Once the blood-red fabric was out of the way, Yasmin could see she hadn’t been wearing anything underneath. Somehow, she felt she should have guessed that- the Master hardly seemed the type of woman to be constrained by something as traditional as a bra. Her lips parted slightly, and she scanned over the woman’s slight curves with a little too much interest, only looking away when her eyes moved from the swell of her breasts to her face, and she realised she was being smirked at again. She couldn’t have been subtle in her staring.</p><p>“You can look if you like.” The Master turned slowly for dramatic effect, giving Yasmin a glimpse of the tattoo that took up most of her back- large, ashy coloured angel wings that dropped dramatically from her shoulder blades, the lowest feathers just barely vanishing into the waistband of her trousers. “I’m not shy.”</p><p>Once again those fingers tangled in her hair, this time giving it a light tug. Though her hair didn’t move, Yasmin still felt the sting of it straining at the roots. She couldn’t quite hold back the rather undignified sound which escaped her.</p><p>“Oh you like that, don’t you?” The Master asked, and when she got a nod in response, she repeated the gesture, smirking at the effect it had on the real-world girl. “Why don’t you take this off for me?” She indicated the white t-shirt Yasmin was wearing, taking the opportunity to very deliberately brush one of her reflection’s nipples through the shirt.</p><p>Outside of the mirror, Yasmin felt the gentle touch, and let out gasp, though it was plain she’d tried to bite it back. Still, she quickly tugged the shirt over her head, not really caring where it landed. She was breathing a little more heavily than before by now, not bothering so much to hide the fact that she was squirming in place.</p><p>“That too.” The Master pulled hard on the back of her reflected counterpart’s bra, and the clasp of her own gave way a little too suddenly. She hissed softly as the elastic snapped against her skin, but didn’t waste any more time pushing that off too.</p><p>In the mirror, the Master was circling the young woman sitting before her, taking in every inch of her. She seemed uninterested in touching herself, more focused on toying with Yasmin. She bent down, two fingers slipping under her chin, and pulling her into a passionate kiss, one hand moving to palm her breast.</p><p>Sitting in front of her mirror, Yasmin could feel the ghosts of the sensations, but all she could really do was watch, her fingers clenching into a fist. She was embarrassingly wet already, but as much as she was itching to touch herself she resisted, watching the show that the Master was putting on and waiting for her to be done. The Master’s eyes met hers and she pulled back from the kiss, her lipstick smudged, and her hair a little messy. She looked downright sinful.</p><p>“Go on, Lovely. I know you want to. Make yourself cum for me.”</p><p>What happened next was quick, and thoroughly embarrassing. Yasmin’s hand slipped below her waistband, into her already-wet panties, quickly finding the nub of her clit, and letting out a low moan. She stayed in her awkward position, legs spread on her desk chair, humping her fingers to a desperate, sticky orgasm while watching as the Master went back to kissing the mirror-her, occasionally giving her wicked little smiles, or touching her reflection in that way that sent jolts up her spine. She brought her other hand up to her mouth when she got close to the edge, pressing it to her mouth to stifle any moans threatening to escape her.</p><p>The Master, clearly frustrated with being denied access to her Yasmin’s lips, tugged on her hair, but that stinging sensation in her scalp was more than enough to send her tumbling over the edge, a strangled moan escaping from behind her hand. As she came down from her high, she became increasingly aware of the way that the blonde was petting her hair, somewhere between comforting and condescending. At some point during their activities she’d shed the rest of her clothing, exchanging them for a short satin robe in her signature scarlet. Somehow it didn’t make her look any dangerous.</p><p>“Good girl.” She all but cooed, her fingernails raking over Yasmin’s scalp again. “You’re <em>such</em> a good girl for me.”</p><p> </p><p>She’d asked about why she was there before, but the Master had never told her. Today, though, something seemed to have changed. That, or Yasmin had finally proved faithful enough to be worth pushing further. Either way, she excused herself from dinner rather quickly when she felt that all-too familiar tugging behind her eyes, quickly locking the door, and kneeling down in front of the mirror. Something about this time felt urgent enough that she didn’t bother grabbing her desk chair. The smile she earned for it made the discomfort of her knees on the wooden floor more than worth it. As much as the Master clearly had something important to say, she did pause to smirk at Yasmin’s current state.</p><p>“You look pretty like that.” She remarked.</p><p>“With my hair up?”</p><p>“On your knees.”</p><p>Yasmin felt her face flush, but couldn’t say much, since the Master seemed to get back on track a moment later.</p><p>“Do you trust me Yasmin?”</p><p>Hearing her full name in that voice sent a shudder down Yasmin’s spine. Very few people actually called her that, and the Master rarely called her by name at all. She found herself nodding before she even had time to think about the question, because of course she did.</p><p>“I can’t hear you.” Her lips quirked into a wicked smirk, and Yasmin watched as her eyes flicked to the door behind her. She knew that Yasmin wasn’t alone.</p><p>“Yes.” She said, a little too quickly.</p><p>“Yes what, Lovely?”</p><p>“Yes Master.”</p><p>“You asked me how I ended up in here.” she raised a hand, resting it against the glass of the mirror. Her palm whitened as she pressed it against the barrier, and for the briefest of moments the glass actually seemed to deform outwards. She snatched her hand back with a hiss of pain, flexing her fingers, her pretty features formed into a snarl. “I assume you’re smart enough to know it’s not by choice.”</p><p>Yasmin nodded, and then remembering the reaction that had earned her the last time, she quickly spoke again, trying her best to keep her voice down so she wouldn’t have to deal with family interrupting them.</p><p>“You’re trapped in there?” She eventually asked, wanting the clarification.</p><p>“Mhm.” The Master looked rather pleased she’d noticed her mistake without needing to be corrected. “At the hands of a good man- or, that’s what he calls himself, at least. Then again lots of angels think they’re good. Doesn’t make it true.” The little angel statue in the mirror lowered it’s hands, giving Yasmin a wicked, toothy grin. Yasmin sucked in a breath, and quickly turned around, only seeing the innocent pink fairy in its place behind her. The Master chuckled at her reaction, that dark, twisted little sound that set Yasmin’s teeth on edge. “They won’t hurt you, Lovely. You’re my friend, they know better.”</p><p>When she said they, Yasmin’s eyes quickly darted around the mirror room. It wasn’t just the fairy any more, every statuette, every plush toy, and every familiar face in a photograph, had taken on those ash-grey wings, and begun covering their faces. There were dozens of them.</p><p>“What are they?” Yasmin asked, a little breathless as more and more of them began to grin at her.</p><p>“Don’t you believe in angels, Yasmin?”</p><p> </p><p>Ever since the Master had begun confiding in her more, Yasmin seemed to have more and more to do. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing- meeting with contacts, passing on cryptic messages, and bringing home odd little parcels left at random drop-offs throughout the county- but she knew that it was all in aid of helping her friend escape. There was something which felt deeply wrong about going so hard against her police training, but Yasmin couldn’t help it. Her night time activities with the Master- while they amounted to little more than masturbation- had certainly encouraged her to do whatever she could to free her new <em>friend</em>. Not to mention that the Master spent her evenings making sure that she was well rewarded for her efforts.</p><p>This latest acquisition was the strangest of all- and certainly the least convenient. The Master had sent her to an antique shop all the way out in York, looking for a broken grandfather clock of all things. She’d found it, of course, and paid a pretty penny for the privilege of owning it, not to mention the funny looks her mother had given her when she’d finally managed to get it up the stairs and into their flat, but still, it was here, standing dusty and disused against the wall of her room, and the Master had seemed very pleased indeed.</p><p>“Open the front of it, Angel.” The Master said once she saw it in place, a wild, excited grin playing across her lips as she watched Yaz’s movements. Once the glass was open, she moved almost out of sight, toying with the latch on her own counterpart- the one that had been barely-in-view since Yasmin had first seen her.</p><p>“Reach inside.”</p><p>“What?” Yasmin turned to face her, suddenly looking nervous. The Master’s smile turned to a teasing pout, though it was still brimming with barely-concealed glee.</p><p>“Don’t you trust me, Yasmin?” The Master’s voice was honey, and Yasmin all too soon felt herself complying, reaching in, waiting for her fingers to hit the rusted pendulum. They never did. She felt resistance, as though she was pushing against cling-film, and then all at once her fingers broke through.</p><p>It was as if she’d plunged her hand into ice. All at once they were so cold that they burned, and almost too stiff to bend. Yasmin yelped, trying to yank her hand back, but the pressure of another hand wrapped around hers stopped her. She felt something painfully cold press against her hand briefly, before she was able to drag it back from inside the damned clock, holding it protectively against her chest.</p><p>“It needs repairs, but it’ll work.” The Master remarked, sounding rather distant.</p><p>Yasmin looked at her hand, and found it looked remarkably normal despite the pain. What was more, it had a kiss mark on the back. She looked up, startled, and sure enough the Master- <em>her</em> Master- was smiling at her, her usually perfect lipstick just slightly smudged.</p><p>“It’s a door! You can come through?” Yasmin asked eagerly, feeling her heartrate pick up in anticipation, brushing a thumb almost reverently over the scarlet kiss. She’d spent enough messy nights with her fingers between her thighs, watching the Master play with her reflection. The idea of getting to bring that into the real world was tantalising- even if a part of her, deep down, couldn’t help but wonder why she had been locked up in the first place.</p><p>Judging by the look the Master was giving her, she’d worked out exactly what Yasmin was thinking about.</p><p>“Soon, Angel.” Her fingers tangled in Yasmin’s hair, drawing a breathless moan from the young woman’s throat. “Very, very soon. If you’re willing to help me?”</p><p>“Yes <em>Master</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Down on Your Knees Before the Queen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yasmin finally opens the gateway to free her Master.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wasn't sure how the first part of this would go down, but people seemed to really enjoy it so I thought I'd revisit it for the prompt that completely stumped me. Apologies it's not as long as last time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Day Twenty-Four</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>Theme: Lily</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>Ship: W!Master/Yasmin Kahn</strong>
</p><p>When Yasmin was a very little girl, her mother had kept a large potted peace lily in their front room, sitting next to the television. She’d been told she fixated on it, trying to draw pictures of the elegant white blooms, poking around in the dirt at its roots, and forever in trouble for tugging on its leaves. She’d loved that plant, sitting and staring at it for hours on end. It was just <em>beautiful</em>.  </p><p>One day, when she was still very young, her mother had walked into the room only to find her chewing on one of the large, green leaves, dribbling greenish-sap and spit down her chin, her hands sticky with it.</p><p>That was the first time she ever ended up in A&amp;E.</p><p>She’d gotten lucky, the nurse said. Her airway didn’t close up despite the irritation, but she still remembered wailing in pain as her mouth and throat burned. She remembered the rash which had covered her chin and hands for days afterwards. She remembered sitting with a glass of milk to try and take the pain away while the beautiful flowers were sent into the nearest skip.</p><p>That was the first time that Yasmin learned that some things that were oh so pretty to look at could hurt you badly if you got too close.</p><p>She’d spent weeks now, working on the broken clock, and her Master seemed very pleased with her.</p><p>Testing it was always a little painful- that odd, icy-cold sensation of pushing her hand into the mirror world never fully went away, but as the thing got closer and closer to being whole again, she could feel more and more of what was on the other side.</p><p>Yasmin knew, by now, that her Master wasn’t a good woman. She wouldn’t admit it, but that was half of the thrill.</p><p>She had, of course, been horrified the first time that the Master sent one of her minions through the gateway. It wasn’t finished, yet, but she’d fixed it well enough that the little angels could pass through. It’d seemed perfectly innocuous, when she’d held it- made of polished stone, and tiny enough to sit in the palm of her hand, with a perfectly angelic little face hidden behind it’s hands. It was nothing dangerous- the kind of odd little ornament she could imagine fitting into a lot of houses.</p><p>Yasmin had been instructed to take it and leave it somewhere quiet, with plenty of foot traffic. She’d picked out a picked out a perfectly lovely spot- sitting it on top of a fence that bordered a small area of woodland, beside a nice walking path she knew her parents sometimes visited.</p><p>The next morning, when she’d woken, it’d been sitting on her shelf, and the sweet little fairy ornament that’d sat there since childhood was in pieces on her floor.</p><p>She’d asked the Master about it, but she’d simply smiled a wicked smile that showed far too many teeth, and told her not to worry about a thing. That night, she saw on the news that a young dogwalker had turned up dead in that same patch of woodland where she’d left the angel. The girl had been young- barely a year older than Yasmin, and her mother was suddenly fussing over her and Sonya, but nobody was looking for a killer- she knew as much from work. It was a tragedy, but nothing the police were concerned about. It’d been ruled an animal attack.</p><p>Yasmin was pretty sure she knew better.</p><p>She didn’t look in the mirror for two days after that, upset, and ashamed at her part in the woman’s death. She knew her Master had done it on purpose, and that angel- that <em>thing</em>- was still in her room, sitting innocently just above her bed.</p><p>Of course, she knew that the Master was still watching her. She was still wearing that wolfish grin, seeming thrilled at how events were unfolding.</p><p>She knew too, that the Master had seen when she slipped under the covers on that second night, shooting a glance at the little murderer in her room, and letting her hand slip below the waistband of her pyjamas. She knew that she’d seen her hips bucking up against her fingers, and heard the desperate little moans escaping her as she furiously rubbed circles over her clit. She knew that her desperate attempts to muffle the sounds of her shame in her pillow hadn’t worked, because right at the end, as she was about to topple into the most intense orgasm of her short life, she heard her Master’s voice reverberating through her skull, right at the very core of her being.</p><p>“<em>Good girl</em>.”</p><p>She’d cum hard around her own fingers, thinking about the violence she’d helped to bring about, and the tiny killer who could end her in an instant. She came knowing that she was important enough for her Master not to snuff her out, even though she could.</p><p>She came, knowing that if <em>her</em> Master asked, she’d do it all again, just for that sick thrill that obedience gave her.</p><p>On the third morning, she knelt in front of the mirror again, as though nothing had happened, trying to ignore the eyes of the angel on her back. It’s hands were lowered, now, and she could see the wide, shark-toothed smile it gave her every time she turned it’s way. It could have ripped out her throat, if it wanted to, and yet the Master kept it at bay.</p><p>It gave her a sick sense of pride, that she was useful enough to live.</p><p>She went back to work, fixing the clock after that. She had all the parts, scavenged from around town. Once or twice, she’d been told to take the angel to specific places, and in the morning it would be on her bedside table, holding the pieces out to her.</p><p>On one particularly sunny morning, there’d been blood, and a few strands of dark hair clinging to the silvery cog, as though the angel had bludgeoned the former owner to death using it.</p><p>That time, Yasmin didn’t bother with hiding how wet she was under the duvet. The Master smirked at her, and talked her through exactly what the angel had done to the poor man, all while she knelt in front of the mirror humping her fingers with an unravelled desperation, still staring at the bloody metal.</p><p>It was one of the first times she saw the Master touch herself at her antics- though she somehow managed to do so with significantly more dignity than Yasmin had managed, rolling her hips lazily into her hands as opposed to the frantic way that she was doing it.</p><p>Her Master had been very keen to point that out.</p><p>“You look so pretty like that. On your knees, all desperate for your Master.” Her voice had been slightly strained when she spoke again, as though she too was close to the edge. “Who makes you feel good, lovely?”</p><p>As the Master spoke, her fingers curled around a fistful of the reflected Yasmin’s hair, yanking it back, hard. Her real world counterpart grabbed her own hair in the same way, desperate to increase that phantom sting and drag herself closer to orgasm.</p><p>“You do.” She managed, the words coming out a breathless moan.</p><p>“Excuse me.” She managed to sound dangerous despite her compromising position, venom dripping from each word.</p><p>“You do, <em>Master</em>.”</p><p>They’d both cum at that, the Master’s cry of pleasure ringing through Yasmin’s head so loudly it seemed to make her bones shake, where she had to muffle hers in her jacket.</p><p>Just like that, it was over. Yasmin quickly wiped the blood from the cog, and went about replacing it in the clock as though it’d never been there.</p><p>By the time she finally had the last piece to fix the gateway, there were four angels in her room, and six new missing-person’s cases being looked into at work.</p><p>The angels had gotten better at hiding their kills over time. She was still a probationer, so she wasn’t exactly involved in homicides, but she’d been drafted into the teems canvasing local woodlands once or twice, scanning for bodies or evidence with teams of volunteers, and playing the concerned officer, all the while the murderers slept soundly in her bedroom each night. She hadn’t found any bodies yet, but she knew that if she asked the Master, she could probably find out where they were.</p><p>She’d considered it, once or twice, but decided against it, in the end. She found her job, as much as she’d loved it a few months ago, didn’t seem all that important anymore.</p><p>She knew what was important, now. Her Master was important, and she was so close to finally breaking her free.</p><p>When that final piece finally arrived, Yasmin raced to the mirror, holding the piece up like a child excited to show off what they’d made to a proud parent. If she didn’t know better, she might have said the Master’s smile was a little less predatory than usual when she saw it.</p><p>“Is that the last one, angel?” She asked, and for once, she sounded gentle. Her fingers ran through the reflected Yasmin’s hair as though she were petting a favourite dog. “Such a good girl. Do you know where it goes?”</p><p>Yasmin nodded proudly.</p><p>“Well then? Let’s get the clock ticking so I can come through. I can’t wait to see you properly, lovely- without the glass in the way.”</p><p>The Master pressed her palm against the glass again, as she had before, and this time it distorted far further than it had before. The barrier between their worlds was clearly weakening.</p><p>At an expectant look from her Master, Yasmin quickly scrambled towards the clock, fumbling with that last, shining piece of metal for a few torturous minutes, before she heard a loud clunk as it fell into place. Winding the clock was easy enough after that, and she watched as the manic glee on the Master’s face grew brighter with each tick of the clock.</p><p>“I can come through when it chimes.” She explained, looking eagerly at it. “That’s when the barrier is weakest. Can you wait that long, angel?”</p><p>“Yes, Master.” Yasmin answered almost instinctively, already moving to kneel in front of the mirror again, looking adoringly up at the blonde behind the glass.</p><p>The Master smirked at her.</p><p>“Are you expecting another reward?” She asked, her tone dancing on the thin line between danger and teasing. “Well, I suppose you have done well. But, you can wait, can’t you?”</p><p>Yasmin nodded, content for now to just watch. The Master had rolled her sleeves up, and Yasmin found herself staring at the odd circular tattoos dancing up her forearms.</p><p>“You’re thinking very loudly, angel.” The Master scolded lightly, though she sounded amused.</p><p>“Sorry, Master.” Yasmin tried to school her thoughts immediately, fixing her eyes a little lower, though that only served to get her staring at the circles across the Master’s calf.</p><p>“It says ‘say something nice’. I like people to say nice things to me, before they die.”</p><p>The idea of that should have been chilling, but Yasmin couldn’t focus on much beyond how nice those words sounded in the Master’s voice. Then again, she was sure that anything would sound nice in <em>her</em> voice.</p><p>“You’re going to kill more people?” Her voice was quiet, though her family weren’t home.</p><p>“You’re going to act surprised about that, lovely?” The Master looked delighted at the prospect. “You knew that all along. You <em>like</em> that- or were you fucking yourself every time a new body turned up for no reason? If innocent didn’t look so pretty on you I might get annoyed.”</p><p>Yasmin didn’t have time to look sheepish. The Master’s attention had turned to the clock, which had just begin to chime. She watched the blonde move towards the reflected clock, and then, she blinked, and it was just a normal reflection again. No angels (beyond the ones the Master had sent through), and no woman in scarlet.</p><p>She blinked again, and suddenly there was a hand in her hair, yanking it back, and exposing Yasmin’s throat.</p><p>“Hello, angel.” The Master said, and now her low, sweet voice wasn’t just in Yasmin’s head. She was here, and she was real, and she was staring at Yasmin like she was the catch of the day. “Lovely to finally see you for real.”</p><p>“Master-“</p><p>“Shh. Shh…” The Master brought a finger to her lips. “Quiet, my lovely. I just want to look, for now.”</p><p>She let go of Yasmin’s hair, beginning to circle her. Though she couldn’t have been more than an inch taller, she seemed to let off an air of strength that made the thought of crossing her <em>terrifying</em>.</p><p>“I don’t need you anymore, you know.” Her sharp fingernails traced over Yasmin’s throat as she spoke. “You’ve outlived your usefulness, so why should I let you live?”</p><p>“I’m-“</p><p>That earned her another sharp yank on her hair.</p><p>“Did I say to speak?” The Master’s voice was suddenly sharp, though it turned back to that soft, deadly tone again a moment later. “Let me think.”</p><p>Yasmin swallowed, but didn’t speak again.</p><p>“Do you know why I keep my angels around, lovely?”</p><p>“No, Master.”</p><p>“Because they’re pretty, and they obey me. Now, you’re much prettier than they are, and you’ve been <em>such</em> <em>a</em> <em>good girl</em>. It seems a shame to kill you when you cold be my <em>best</em> angel yet.” She brushed her fingers more gently through Yasmin’s hair, stopping in front of her, and gesturing for her to stand. “Are you going to be a good little angel for me, Yasmin Khan?”</p><p>“Yes, Master.”</p><p>The Master grinned, a manic glint in her eye as she grabbed the front of Yasmin’s shirt, dragging her into a rough kiss, leaving her newest ornament’s mouth smeared with scarlet lipstick.</p><p>Yasmin just smiled.</p><p>She had always been drawn to dangerous beauties, ever since she was a little girl. She’d obsessed over her mother’s lilies, until it had almost killed her. Now, she’d found a new fascination; the Master- <em>her</em> Master. She was ten time’s as beautiful, and ten times as deadly as any flower Yasmin had seen, but she wasn’t afraid.</p><p>Some things were just so beautiful they were worth the pain.</p><p>Her Master was one of those things.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The title comes from The Ballad of Sara Berry (Angel of Music) from 35mm: A Musical Exhabition.</p><p>God save the queen.<br/>Down on your knees before the queen.<br/>They wrapped your wrists in silver.<br/>They took your crown,<br/>They washed the blood from each finger and hand.</p><p> Title playlist for all of my Femslash Febuary oneshots can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title comes from The Mirror (Angel of Music) from The Phantom of the Opera. It wasn't the song I had in mind initially, but I remembered it existed, and it was too perfect not to use.</p><p>Angel my soul was weak,<br/>Forgive me.<br/>Enter at last,<br/>Master.</p><p>Title playlist for all of my Femslash Febuary oneshots can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CUnm7fntJlE2mlfQv4jvJ?si=8_tTLDsDRYyC2t9tyOUPDA</p></blockquote></div></div>
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